


Past Three O'Clock

by red_starshine



Series: Holidays With Chas & Constantine [1]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Crack, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_starshine/pseuds/red_starshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John & Chas try to have a normal Christmas at the mill house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Three O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Light John/Chas pairing, nothing explicit. Rating is primarily for John's dirty mouth.
> 
> I mixed a little bit of ‘Hellblazer’ in, mostly to fill in the gaps the TV series hasn’t addressed yet. Nothing requires knowledge of the comic, however. Not beta-ed, so John’s dialogue hasn’t been britpicked. Also slightly cracky.

John looked up from his newspaper as Chas barged through the door of the mill house, nosily dragging a tall spruce tree behind him down the stairs, the stump cleanly sawn off.

“Oi, lumberjack,” called John, one cigarette comfortably smoldering in an empty whiskey glass next to him. “Despite all the accoutrements of our lovely home, it’s no longer a working saw mill. Why’re you bringin’ that in here?”

"It’s the nicest one I could find." Chas glanced at him as he proudly hauled the large spruce tree upright. “What do you think?”

John pushed back his chair and stood, staring up at the spruce. It was a good three feet taller than he was. “I think it’s a tree,” he said after a moment.

“And?” Chas prompted, waiting for him to continue.

"And it’s getting sap all over Jasper’s Persian rug. You’re lucky he’s dead or he’d be looking up a spell to turn you into a woodchuck right now,” said John, looking down at the stump.“You feelin’ all right, mate? Did you get possessed by the spirit of some poor forrester who got caught in the saws? Or is it all those tartan shirts you wear, makin’ you feel like you had to chop down poor, defenseless trees?”

Chas glanced down to his green-and-red plaid shirt momentarily before rolling his eyes. “I meant as a Christmas tree. Do you think it looks okay?”

'Bugger me, I don’t give a toss,' thought John, blearily running his fingers through his blond hair. To Chas he said, “Uh, yeah, s’pose that’s a fine tree.” He paused. “We’ve never put a tree up before.”

“Thought it’d be nice, y’know? Normal.”

John scoffed. “We’ve had normal Christmases before.”

Chas looked at him cooly. “Last year, we ate cold Chinese food in my cab while Renee screamed at me over the phone and you were putting together a spell to find the King of the Vampires with cow guts,” he said. “That’s not normal for most people.”

“Yeah, well, I also got blind drunk off that terrible Night Train shite of yours. That’s an accepted time-honored Christmas tradition, innit?”

Chas looked at John tiredly. “As much of a tradition as hosing down my cab the next day so it doesn’t smell like cheap booze and entrails.”

John rolled his eyes and conceded, “Point taken.”

Chas lifted the tree into a waiting bucket of water. “Hang on a second.” Chas disappeared into one of the storerooms and reappeared with a green cast-iron Christmas tree stand with three large screws sticking out of it.

“Wait, we have one of those here?” asked John.

“Yeah.”

John looked at the stand warily. “If Jasper had that, you do realize there’s a fairly good chance it’s cursed, right?”

Chas hefted the stand experimentally. It seemed innocuous enough. “It’s a Christmas tree stand,” he said plaintively, a look of near-horror on his face. “Who would curse a tree stand?”

John made a face. “Eh, you’d be surprised, mate.”

Chas looked down at the possibly cursed tree stand. “Screw it. I’ll take the risk.” Chas placed the stand on the floor near the loose ring of sofas in front of the fireplace. John watched as Chas lifted the tree out of the bucket and carried it across the room to the stand. The tree flopped backwards against the wall when Chas let go.

“You just gonna sit and watch?” said Chas, kneeling down on the floor to adjust the screws.

“Yeah, actually. Should be an entertainin’ show.”

Chas glared at him over his shoulder. “John.”

“Fine.” Begrudgingly, John walked over and held the trunk of the tree straight while Chas adjusted the screws on the stand.

“Let go,” said Chas. John released the tree and it immediately tilted to the left. Chas braced the tree before it could fall out of the stand and knock over the table next to it. “OK, let’s try that again.”

John sighed and held the tree straight, his face only a few inches away from the needles. “Don’t suppose Jasper had some cursed ornaments and light strings back there too,” he muttered.

“Didn’t look like it,” said Chas. “Sure we can find something to decorate the tree with, though.”

John snickered slightly. “I’ve got a few empty cigarette cartons we can hang from the branches if we get too hard up.”

Chas laughed as he tightened the screws. “We could use some of the occult talismans for lights. Some of those glow.”

“Think dear old Saint Nicholas would give our mill house a pass if we put a hand of glory on the tree?”

“Eugh,” said Chas, looking vaguely ill. “I would.”

“Oh, but I’ve been ever so good this year,” said John innocently.

“And I’m shocked lightening didn’t strike you just now,” said Chas, pushing himself up. “OK, John.”

John let go of the tree trunk and it mercifully remained upright with only a slight wobble.

“Looks good,” said Chas. He turned back to John, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Want to help me look for decorations?”

John smirked. “Not particularly. Knock yerself out, Chas.”

***

“John? The tree’s doing something weird,” said Chas a half-hour later.

John sighed from the table, examining the map. “Well mate, I did tell you that might happen.”

“I mean…,” Chas trailed off, and then gave a heaving sigh. “Could you just come in here?”

Annoyed, John folded up the map, leaving it on the table. “Bloody Jasper and his bloody stupid cursed objects,” he muttered, pulling the package of Silk Cuts from his pocket.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The branches of the tree were dotted with small amber points of light, softly glowing in the darkened corner of the room. They weren’t connected to any wires, and they seemed to flicker slightly as he drew closer. Chas stood next to the tree with a slightly stunned expression on his face.

John peered curiously at the beads of lights dotting the branches and needles. He curiously poked at one, and was slightly surprised to find it didn’t burn his finger. It was cool but slightly sticky, like sap.

“Self-lighting tree,” John said. “Interesting.”

Chas pointed towards one branch toward the bottom of the tree. “That’s not all. Take a look at this.”

John kneeled down to get a closer look at the branch Chas had pointed out. Two large blood-red berries were sprouting from it. Looking at the other branches, he could see tiny green berries starting to grow in among the needles.

“Now that is extremely interesting, as spruce isn’t a berry-producing tree,” said John.

“The stand?”

“Gotta be, mate. No other reason for it to be acting like this.”

“Think that’s all it’ll do?” said Chas, looking slightly worried. “It’s not going to set itself on fire, or anything like that?”

John shrugged. “Hell if I know. Doubt Jasper’s got a bloody owner’s manual for the thing.”

Chas gave a long-suffering sigh, staring at the tree. “I’m having second thoughts about this.”

“As well you should. We should be fine so long as the tree doesn’t start talking,” said John.

Chas just gave him a long look. “That’s not funny,” he said quietly.

“Wasn’t trying to be, mate.”

***

John had drawn a mystic circle in chalk around the tree to keep the magic contained anyway, just to be on the safe side. Chas doubted the words ‘FUCK OFF’, written in large letters along the inside of the circle, were really integral to the magical qualities of the circle, but he didn’t say anything. The berries had ripened all over the tree in a little over an hour, looking like large red ornaments nestled between the glowing lights and green needles.

Not only self-lighting, but self-decorating as well.

“I’m beginning to see why Jasper kept that stand around,” said John, pouring rum into the eggnog Chas had insisted on getting. “Bloody useful.”

Chas glared down at the tree stand. “It sucks the fun out of decorating it. And now I have to worry if that stupid stand’s going to do anything else.”

“Untangling burnt-out lights and hauling boxes out of the cellar isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time. If it saves us the hassle of doing that holly-jolly Christmas crap, I’m all for it.”

Chas glanced at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

John sat down next to him on one of the sofas. “What?”

“You never had a good Christmas, did you?”

John let out a hacking laugh. “God no. Dad saw to that when I was little. Had a few OK ones with the band, but after Newcastle…” His mouth became a hard line.

“I know,” said Chas, placing a hand on John’s knee. “You don’t need to say anything else.”

John let out a loud breath. “What about you? Did you ever have a good Christmas? One that made you feel warm and cozy and all that shit?”

Chas smiled slightly to himself, letting his hand slip off John’s knee. “The Christmas after Geri was born.”

John went stiff at the mention of Chas’s young daughter. “You could see her,” said John mildly, after a few moments of silence. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be with your family for Christmas instead of holed up at Uncle Jasper’s Occult Emporium.”

Chas shook his head slightly. “After what’s happened with Renee, I don’t think I’m welcome at the house this year.”

“You could still see your daughter,” said John. “I mean, there’s rules, aren’t there? You’re her dad, you should be able to see her if you want to.”

“Renee won’t talk to me without screaming. I don’t want to make Geri suffer through that again. Just getting her for a few days was like trying to take a raw steak away from a starving lion.”

“Well, you were the one who wanted to marry the stupid bint,” said John.

Chas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks John.”

“Anytime.”

Chas decided it was time to shift the topic of their conversation away from himself. “Heard anything from Cheryl and Gemma?”

John felt a twinge in his chest at the mention of his older sister and young niece. “Nah. Wasn’t expecting a Christmas card from them this year. Didn’t exactly leave ‘em a forwarding address when I checked out of Ravenscar.”

“You could call,” suggested Chas. “I bet they’d love to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” said John distantly.

Chas looked at John for a long moment, taking a sip from his eggnog. “You’re not going to call them, are you?”

John knocked back his spiked eggnog. “Nope. For the same reason you’re not seeing your daughter,” he said. “Left things at a bad spot with Cheryl before I went to Ravenscar. They’ll have a very merry Christmas without bein’ reminded I’m a member of their family.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Oi, like you’re not in the same sinkin’ ship I’m in,” said John angrily, refilling his near-empty glass of spiked eggnog with just rum. “Family is like…handin’ someone a loaded gun and trusting them not to shoot you in the back with it. Oh, I’m sure someone, somewhere, wouldn’t be tempted to unload those rounds, but you and I, mate?” He gave a dark chuckle. “We’d be dead ten times over.”

Chas stared at him for a moment impassively. “Bull.”

“All right, I’d be dead ten times over,” said John. “You’d be spitting the bullets back out and healing the gunshot wounds just in time for the new slugs to rip your body to bits again.”

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? Explain, then.”

“John, we’ve spent more Christmases hunting demons with each other than we’ve spent with our actual blood relatives. I think of you, in some strange, twisted way, as family.”

John just stared at him, his eyes wide.

Chas took a sip from his eggnog, staring into the fireplace. “And I wouldn’t pull the trigger on you. Even if you really deserved it.”

“The exception that proves the rule,” said John weakly after a moment of silence.

“No,” said Chas firmly. “You think family’s only good for stabbing you in the back. And…” he shrugged. “Yeah, relatives can be assholes. Not sayin’ they can’t. But they don’t have to be family if you don’t want them to be.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Maybe taking a break from this’ll help.” Chas slipped the glass of rum out of John’s hand.

John didn’t protest as he was separated from his rum, but looked at it longingly as Chas set it down on the table, safely out of his reach. He sighed. “You were sayin’?”

“Blood doesn’t mean anything. You can chose your family, John. It can be as big or as small as you want.”

John remained silent for a moment, looking up at him. Slowly, he slid closer to Chas and leaned his head against Chas’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “Think I only keep you around ‘cause you say the sweetest things,” he mumbled into Chas’s flannel shirt.

Smiling, Chas put his arm around John’s shoulders, gently rubbing his arm.

In the light of the cursed Christmas tree and the roaring fire, with the warmth of the spiked eggnog running through him and Chas’s arm around him, for the first time in a very long time, John almost felt at peace.

The Christmas tree chose that moment to light up even brighter, a ray of golden sunshine coming down to fall upon it despite the utter lack of any window or skylight where the light could conceivably be coming from. An angelic choir could be heard quietly harmonizing from the general direction of the tree.

“Knock that shit off right now,” mumbled John irritably from the sofa, his eyes still closed.

The sunshine snapped off like someone had thrown a switch, and the choir cut out just as abruptly.

“Better,” said John, still snuggled against Chas’s side. He opened one eye to look up at Chas. “So, this normal enough for you, mate?”

Chas chuckled slightly. “You know what? I’ll take it.”

THE END


End file.
